Page 140 of Moonlit Fate

“Atticus.” My father’s voice was closer now. The floorboards outside groaned under his weight. “You think you’re so clever, hiding. But I can hear your heart pounding from here.”

I squeezed into the corner, letting the shadows swallow. His taunting continued as he stepped into my room.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he said, each word dripping with a venom that made my stomach twist. “If only you could have fixed what is broken in you. Your mother would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have to do this to you. But you’ve left me no choice.”

Clamping my hand over my mouth, I held my breath to keep the sob from escaping. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. As I curled into a tight ball, the darkness became my protector. It kept me hidden. Kept me safe.

I could hear the snarls, the growls, the heavy breaths of the wolf that was my father. He’d shifted. His breath, tainted by stale alcohol, hung in the stillness as he inched closer. I braced myself, squeezing my eyes shut, every muscle tensed for the impact.

“Come on out,”he taunted in my mind. “It’s time, Atticus.”

I was cornered, a child, defenseless against the towering presence of the wolf that stalked me. A steady stream of tears flowed down my face, and I tasted salt on my lips. Hardly a fair fight.

I braced myself, ready for the pain, for the end. At least I’d see my mother again. Hopefully.

I waited, but then… nothing. Just silence and the eerie sensation of complete stillness. Confused, I cracked open one eye, then the other, and peered through the darkness that cloaked me. I couldn’t believe it. There he was, the big, menacing wolf, frozen in place. He was pinned to the floor, his limbs forcedinto his flank. Shadows pressed down on him as if they’d sprung to life on their own accord. My father struggled, muscles rippling under his fur, but the shadows held firm.

“Atticus,” he roared, shifting back from beast to man, straining against the inky darkness that ensnared him. “What is this?”

I didn’t answer, just watched, stunned by a power I didn’t fully understand. The power that had saved me once again.

35

ARIA

Sometime in the night, Atticus and I were moved from the communal area to his bed, and that started the broken chain of sleep and wakefulness. I’d drift off, only to be yanked back when Atticus’s terror slammed into me. Every time, I reached out and stroked his hair.

“It’s okay,” I whispered in his ear, not sure if he could hear me through the fog of his nightmares. I wrapped my arms around him, willing him to calm. For a little while, he would. We’d both find peace, however fleeting, before the cycle repeated.

The next time I woke, light crept into the room. Atticus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. No more tremors racked his body, and I took the time just to watch him. His face, usually so strong and defiant, seemed almost boyish now.

How many times had he risked his own safety to stand between me and danger? How many times had he taken the brunt of my burden onto himself?

An invisible thread woven with care and sacrifice tied me to this rogue wolf who dared to challenge everything for me. My role as a leader and my responsibilities to the pack paled incomparison to what lay in my heart—the desire to claim him as mine, to hold on to him as fiercely as he held onto his own freedom.

There was a battle ahead, I knew that much. A fight for the future of our kind, for the right to live and love freely. To reestablish balance. And now there was a whole new component.

Philesia.

What was her motive for seeking me out? So many questions flew through my mind. Could she truly help me control and master my powers? And why only me? Why not Atticus? Should I be worried that she might tear us apart when we were finally mending our relationship?

I nestled my head in the crook of Atticus’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. His familiar scent seeped into my lungs, filling me with a contentment I’d thought forever lost to me when my father died. In the stillness of the room, I relished simply being Aria—not the alpha or the warrior, but a woman captivated by the man who had become a pillar of unwavering support.

I let my fingers dance lightly over Atticus’s neck, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. He lay still, his breathing even and deep. As I studied his face, doubt began to creep in. Had it been a mistake to let him go? Would this new awkwardness between us ever fade?

His skin was warm under my touch. Too warm, too real. I didn’t want to stop, but the fear of crossing an unseen boundary held me back. I jerked my hand back as if scalded.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Don’t stop.”

Caught in the act, I laughed nervously. “You’re awake.”

“Your fault,” Atticus said, his lips curling into a half-smile. He caught my hand and put it back on his neck. He kept his eyes closed, but his grip on me was firm. “Feels nice.”

“Does it?” I resumed the gentle motion, tickling the sensitive skin.

“Uh-huh.” His breath hitched, and when he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated, dark pools reflecting something I couldn’t quite identify. Longing? Regret? The same emotions that whirled inside me?

I hesitated. “Were you dreaming again?”

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